Still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen walking the Earth, Flavio's nose still worked as well—he knew I was vampire. "Father," he muttered, turning his eyes toward Wlodek, "why have I not been informed of this one?"
"Lissa, come and sit." Merrill rose from his chair and swept his hand toward the three remaining chairs—the ones in the center—right before Flavio's desk. He knew from my silence just how angry I was with him.
"Lissa," Charles took my hand and led me to the center seat. I was numb and Tony watched me with curiosity as Charles and Radomir got me seated and comfortable before taking seats on either side of me. There wasn't a glimmer of recognition from Flavio, Tony or Gavin. Gavin took it a step farther, though, choosing to ignore me while Flavio speculated and Tony stared in wonder.
"My sire informs me that you were here, long ago," Flavio began, his dark eyes searching my face for acknowledgement. I reminded myself that one of my newly discovered nieces was married to him—along with several other husbands, including Dalroy.
"I was." My voice quavered and I cleared my throat. I wanted to weep, but I wasn't about to do it in front of Gavin. I'd seen the severe frown on his face—he had no desire to be where he was. Forcing my thoughts away from what the old Gavin might have done upon seeing me after centuries of absence, I turned my gaze to Tony.
He was more than curious, his clear, gray eyes traveling over me from tip to toe. My clothes were fine; I'd spent more than enough money on my wardrobe, but I was still too thin. I felt unattractive under his scrutiny.
"Anthony, it is impolite to stare," Gavin growled softly. Tony turned away.
"My sire also tells me you are a powerful Queen." There was a vague question in Flavio's words, but he didn't insult his vampire sire by expressing blatant disbelief. Wlodek was feeding mindspeech to Flavio, and Flavio was struggling to keep the shock from his voice.
"My sire says," Flavio hesitated, "you were once married to Gavin."
Those words infuriated me. He might have saved me much embarrassment if he'd kept that to himself. It was more than obvious that Gavin didn't remember me. Tony, too. I wanted no more pain at the hands of these, or their charity, either. Gavin's dark eyes were hard as they bored into mine, and there was nothing but contempt there. He didn't want me. Someone, somewhere, had made sure of that. If their ultimate goal had been to break my heart, well, they'd done a fine job of it.
"I can't kill Xenides again, just to prove what I am," I hissed at Flavio. "Fuck you. Fuck all of you." I turned to mist and got the hell away.
* * *
"Honored One, I have never been married," Gavin rose from his seat. "With your permission," Gavin nodded respectfully to Flavio and strode angrily from the study.
"I'll get you home," Radomir motioned for Tony to sit down again—he was prepared to follow his surrogate sire.
"Child, she has always been thus; disregard it," Wlodek calmed Flavio. "She is a Queen, and at times, her tone and her profanity are warranted."
Chapter 8
The night was calm and beautiful, until I interrupted it with a sob. The roof of the villa was my perch as I wiped my cheeks and struggled to get the vision of Gavin's contempt out of my mind. Did I love him? I did. I'd loved him from the moment he'd put his hands on my neck, eons ago, outside a mansion in Oklahoma City. That Gavin had touched me with gentleness, massaging my neck to ease the tension away. I was preparing for another night of hunting Winkler's kidnappers, and I'd been a failure at it up to that point. I would never forget the feeling of weakness that came over me at Gavin's touch. I'd wanted to melt against him and weep my heart out. I hadn't.
Winkler was gone, now, and that made me wipe more tears away. Gavin was just as gone, though he still lived. Why had I been brought back? Why? My last memory before my death was of the late afternoon sky over Veshtul as my mist floated away. Darkness had come quickly afterward.
"Baby, we just got a message from Turtle." Drew appeared on one side, Drake on the other, and both settled in comfortably beside me.
"Who's Turtle?" I wiped my cheeks, hoping the twins wouldn't comment on the tearstains.
"A Falchani Spawn Hunter, like us," Drake wiped away a tear with a thumb, his touch gentle against my cheek. "He still owns a bar on Falchan, in the border town between the Falchani lands and Reldis."
"Turtle's son runs the bar, but since it's on the border, ruffians come in all the time and they always pick a fight," Drew sounded almost happy about that.
"So, quelling a fight is always good therapy if you're upset about something," Drake picked up the story. "Come on, itty bitty pants; let's go crack a few Reldan heads. Don't kill anybody, we're not allowed," he added, grinning.
"Uh-huh," I muttered. I was about to refuse, but the twins folded me away before I could get the words out.
It wasn't a fight—it was a brawl, with most of the bar involved. Even the bartender was wading into the fray as I stood in the doorway of a square building, fashioned of finely sanded wood, with a carefully crafted stone floor beneath our feet. Gouges were cut into the wood wherever a bare space of wall showed—there'd been plenty of fighting with blades inside this bar.
They serve the best noodles here, Drew sent as a body was tossed in our direction. The body in question rose from the floor and tottered back to the battle. Blades and fists were flying throughout the bar, and the entire room was a seething mass of conflict. I'm not sure if the combatants even knew who was friend and who was foe, they merely concentrated on fighting.
You're watching this and thinking about noodles? I sent. I'm sure my incredulity was sent with my words—I was shaking my head at what was going on all around us.
They're really good noodles, Drake weighed in on the mental conversation. Mom and Aunt Gracie like to come here and eat with Dad and Uncle Crane.
And I suppose the fights break out then, too? I questioned Drake.
Yeah. Mom and Aunt Gracie have tossed a few punches and crossed blades a time or two. Dad and Uncle Crane trained them, so they can hold their own. Drake was mentally laughing at me. I shouldn't have been surprised—both women were Saa Thalarr and fought the Ra'Ak. They were warriors, just as the men were.
So, you want noodles, then? I blinked up at Drake's face. His eyes, like his father's were nearly black. I liked them.
We both want noodles. But we can't get any until this is over; Drew nodded toward the continuing battle.
Fine, I sent, and waded into the nearest conflict.